This Burden I Bear
by Sorrow Reminisce
Summary: When Thor loses his battle against Kurse, Loki finds himself the unwilling recipient of Thor's legacy. Saving the universe and seeing Jane Foster back to safety is no burden he wishes to bear, but then again... He can hardly rule a universe if there's no universe left to rule, can he? Based on a fic prompt. Thor 2 AU.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author Note: **This story was inspired by the following Lokane fic prompt: 'Loki's plans to fake his own death go awry when Thor actually dies during the battle instead. Afterward he and Jane have to save the universe because, even though he's an asshole, the whole universe dying means there'd be nothing left to rule and that is simply not acceptable to him. In addition, Jane is all that remains of the only two people Loki really cared about and he will not let anyone kill her and take the life they died to preserve. Use the Line: "you are all that remains of everyone I have loved"'_

_ I decided the mood of the story was suitable for writing in present tense, but as I haven't often attempted this, I apologise in advance if I screw it up! Feedback is most welcome! :)_

* * *

**This Burden I Bear**  
_by Sorrow_

It is the fresh scars upon Svartalfheim's bleak barren landscape that lead Loki to Thor. He has but to follow the trail of rocks torn loose from the ground; the track marks of warring bodies gouged deep into the earth.

Of Kurse, there is no sign. But his brother lies face up upon the blackened ground. Cornflower blue eyes stare at the ruined sky. Dull and sightless. Life-blood soaking into the blackened earth. Body cooling in the fierce winds that whip across the plains. The hammer - for all the good it did him in the end - rests useless in his slackened hand.

Loki drops to his knees beside his brother's prone body; one hand stretching towards a well-muscled arm before falling short of its target. _Thor. You great oaf. Why did you not listen? _

"You fool." He snarls as the hands he cannot bring to touch his brother curl tight at his sides; nails biting into palms. "It was _I _who was pledged revenge - it should have been _I_ who fought the Kursed!"

A movement to his right snaps him from his bitter reverie and he reaches for his dagger - half-buried in the sand - defensive and ready as he spins to his feet.

The mortal - Thor's woman - halts in her tracks. Hands raised to prove them empty. Eyes wide and horror-stricken as she stares at the body beyond him.

Loki nods, frowning, and the mortal steps past, a strangled cry escaping her throat as she sees the massive blade that felled the Thunderer. He waits for her to fall to the ground; a sobbing wreck. Hate swells like black ink within his veins. As if _she _has the right to grieve.

But she shrugs out of her coat and moves to kneel beside the fallen Prince. Quick. Efficient. "This isn't happening. You're not dying on me Thor." The wind steals away the woman's reassurances. Nonetheless, she places her coat around the wound - careful not to move the sword - and bears down. Expression fierce. Determined.

Loki watches. Numb and grim. There's no sense in staunching the blood. It's already ceased to flow. Still, a fragment of hope defies his instincts. If anyone can drag Thor back from the feasting halls of Valhalla, it will be this ferocious little mortal he had become so enamoured by. After all, he's already returned once from the dead for her sake.

"Is this entertaining enough for you?" The woman glares through tangled locks of brown hair, lank with sweat and the grit of the land. "Don't you have magic stones or something?"

"Can you not see it's a lost cause?" The slow creep of defeat flattens Loki's tone. He shrugs, as if Thor's death has not affected him. _Liar_. "Healing stones cannot bring back the dead."

It is a barrier he has long built around himself: This nonchalance. Inwardly, a tight knot of despair uncoils slowly from his chest and burrows deep into his stomach. Resentment hot on its heels. First Frigga, now Thor, and all because of this mortal and the poison she carried within her?

"He's your _brother!_ Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

The woman sits back on her haunches and strikes the hair from her face, leaving a smudge of blood upon her brow. Thor's blood. Loki stares at that red smear until all else blurs. The words - the accusations - are but white noise. Meaningless. He lets her anger wash over him and feels his own begin to writhe in turn. Thor is dead. _Dead. Dead. Dead…_ It's a nightmare from which he cannot not rise.

"...and I wouldn't be surprised if you set this up! That's the kind of monster you are, isn't it!"

An eery silence hangs in wake of the woman's outcry. Loki blinks, startled, her words like a slap to the face; breaking him from his brooding trance.

"You dare speak to me thus?" In a heartbeat he grabs her arm and wrenches her towards him; fingers pinching skin until her knees buckle and a cry escapes her lips. "You _dare _speak to a Prince of…"

And there he falters, unable to say what once came so proudly to his lips. Prince of Asgard? No. Never more will that be the title for _Laufey's _son. _Prince of Monsters _his mind finishes cruelly, and he squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head; as if by doing so he might block the truth from his heart.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" The woman manages, fingers prising against his own in search of relief. His eyes snap open and he relinquishes her, turning his head from the angry red imprint his fingers have left upon her skin. _Monster indeed._

"If we discount New York, I guess that was uncalled for." She massages her arm before sinking on trembling knees back to Thor's side. Her efforts to revive him now still as she slips her fingers through his hair, sweeping golden strands from his brow. "I saw you take on a half dozen of those creatures. It's not like you can be in two places at once, right?"

"Indeed." Loki says flatly, watching her work her fingers through Thor's hair.

He wonders how much Thor told her of his little 'brother'. Does she know of the Jotuns? Does she know how close her words cut to the truth? That he truly _is _a monster beneath his Asgardian veneer? Nonetheless, what does it really matter? She's but a mortal - her judgement weighs less than air. And if they manage to survive what comes next, she won't be the last to blame him for Thor's death.

And what _will _come next? For once Loki's ever-scheming mind is at loss. Malekith has the Aether, Thor lies dead before him, and that damned old man upon Asgard's throne is fit for nothing but a short ride upon a flaming boat. Should Malekith use the Aether against them...

Hopelessness is a feeling Loki would sooner do without, and he shifts his gaze to the direction from which they came. Working on the immediate problem is a better starting point.

"Tell me, have you been in a sandstorm before?"

"What?" The mortal falters, confused. "No. I mean, we had dust storms in New Mexico sometimes..."

"Well, Jane Foster." Loki steps forward, noting the fear in her eyes as they sidle to the dagger in his fist. Nonplussed, he extends his empty hand towards her. "I suggest you follow me."

For several moments the woman - _Jane _\- stares blankly at his hand. He half-wonders if grief has rendered her daft, or if she's simply mortified at the thought of accepting his assistance. And then as a sudden gust of wind whips the sand around them, her eyes widen in understanding and she glances over her shoulder.

A vicious vortex of darkness gathers a mile or so away, eery and violent as it shifts slowly across the charcoal sands. It's greedy plumes swallow the dunes and stretch across the sky. Huge and malevolent.

"The sandstorms of Svartalfheim are unlike anything you've known in your realm." Loki waits for Jane's attention to return to him before continuing. "You will not survive long if you remain here, exposed on this plain."

"But what about Thor?" She whispers, broken. "Won't it bury him?"

Loki drops his gaze to his brother. To where Mjolnir lies upon his fingertips, pinning him to the ground more effectively than any Elvish skewer. "Burials are customary tributes to the dead on your world, are they not?"

"I suppose. But not to the Aesir, are they?" Jane's fingers tightened on Thor's shoulder. "Frigga was given a proper send off. The boat… The fire… Doesn't Thor deserve as much?"

Loki blinks away. _What family is left for him?_ Something akin to grief rises to his throat. He swallows it down. Locks it away. "And what do you propose we do?" He asks at last. "Cart him with us? No. The Allfather will send someone to retrieve his precious corpse. Of that you can have no doubt."

"How will they find him if he's buried under that!" Jane points to the sandstorm, expression fierce and desperate

Loki lets slip a slow deep breath; gaze wandering their surroundings, taking map of the rocky outcrops nearby. "If we _survive _to make it back to Asgard, I will lead them here myself."

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for the mortal to concede. She meets his gaze with heated defiance, but grudgingly moves to her feet. _Finally! _Nodding, Loki turns north-west of the storm and sets off across the plains. They've lost enough time already.

"There is a cave where we can find shelter, if we reach the mountain range in time. You should remove those ridiculous shoes…" Loki throws a glance over his shoulder, then all but staggers in surprise.

The foolish woman is still at Thor's side, straining desperately to pull the sword from his chest.

"What are you doing!" Loki cries, appalled. "We have no time for this!"

But Thor's woman ignores him. All thought focused on that damned sword until finally it slides free of his brother's chest with a terrible sucking sound. Stumbling at its weight, she drops the massive weapon to the sand and hooks her hands under his armpits, intent now on dragging the mighty Thunderer across the sand.

Loki shakes his head in disbelief. It's an impossible task for such a petite creature - even without Mjolnir to anchor Thor in place.

"I told you - I'm not leaving him like this!" She manages at last, through gritted teeth no less. Grief, as it turns out, has made her ridiculously determined.

_For Norns sake…_ The first winds of the sandstorm are reaching them now. Loki can feel the grit buffet his back like a vicious caress. Clearly the woman is as mad as she is stubborn. He could just as easily just leave her here and no one would ever be the wiser.

_But that he owes it to Thor…._

With an exaggerated groan, the dark Prince crosses the ground between them in long strides and reaches for her arm. "And I will not stay here quibbling over a corpse!"

"Good! You can help me carry him then." Unrelenting, Jane shakes off his grasp and continues to try and haul Thor across the sand. Her face set in a resolute mask.

"Stubborn wench!" Loki swears softly, shaking his head. Then with a weary mutter, "I did not ask for this brother, but if this is the burden I am to bear, then so be it."

Swatting her hands away, Loki begins to dig the sand around Thor's trapped hand. He cannot lift the damned hammer, but perhaps the ground will be soft enough that he can work his brother's hand out from beneath it…

"Can't you just lift it?"

Loki shakes his head; a bitter laugh his only reply.

At last, he works Thor free, sits him up and hoists him over one shoulder; knees buckling ever so slightly beneath the Thunderer's enormous weight. With a final scowl in Jane's direction, Loki turns towards the nor-westerly mountains.

"So your brother is a burden now?" Jane presses as she trails after him.

"What?" Loki grunts without pause in his stride.

"_If this is the burden I am to bear, so be it?_" She quotes.

"I was speaking of _you_, woman." He retorts, swinging around to meet her eyes. "And you're welcome."

The mortal opens her mouth and promptly closes it again. Dumbstruck. It's a pleasant change, Loki figures, as he turns and picks up his pace. This time not bothering to check if she follows. Of course she will. He has her beloved across his shoulders. As much a carrot on a stick as any.


	2. Chapter 2

**This Burden I Bear**

by Sorrow

_Except for the howling wind, Svartalfheim is an eerily quiet realm. There are great tomes in Odin's library that describe rolling green hills and lush woods - though such imagery is difficult to imagine now. The dark plains are barren. Devoid of even the smallest sign of life. The only movement upon the realm now is the swirling sands - and two figures as alien to this world as they are to each other._

_The winds swirl harder and faster now as the storm closes in on the two travellers. Sand billows endlessly until their eyes sting and lungs burn from the ongoing assault. Soon the storm will entomb them. And when at last it passes, the plains __ will be still and lifeless once more._

* * *

Pulling her jacket tight around her body, Jane hugs herself against the biting cold. But the swirling grit buffers her face, half-blinding her, and she is soon forced to hold up her hands in effort to ward off its onslaught.

She's aware that Loki is leading them away from their skiff and towards the nearby foothills of a great mountain. It is, she supposes, their only hope of finding refuge from this storm. Though whether their worlds will be waiting for them once the winds pass, is anyone's guess.

A sound threads itself through the wind to reach her ears. A brisque call for her to hurry. She frowns. Does Loki think she drags behind on purpose? But she bites back the retort that forms on her tongue. Perhaps she does, a little. It's difficult to face the sight of Thor's lifeless body across his shoulder. To see his arms trail uselessly. To feel her stomach wrench at the loss. Far easier to hang back and keep her head down. To focus on the pattern of placing one foot ahead of the other.

That's enough. That's all she can manage for now.

Finally the black sands beneath her feet give way to broken earth, and a mass of rock rises around her. She glances up, startled, until her gaze finds Loki a short way ahead. He has stopped to wait for her. A haughty smile upon his lips. Does it give him a kick, she wonders, to know that she needs him?

"Good Norns, you're a mess." He sniffs, as if personal appearance means anything out here.

Jane pushes a tangle of hair out of her face. Catches the smell of cloyed blood upon her sleeve. _Thor's blood. _"Yeah well, you're no picture yourself."

The smile twists upon Loki's lips then abruptly departs. His eyes are hard. "You must know that this journey will be easier for the both of us if we leave Thor here."

Jane flinches at the ease of his words. Does he really feel _nothing _for his brother? She wills herself to shift her gaze to Thor. At some point, she realises in surprise, Loki has stopped to remove Thor's cape and wrap him in it. His flapping arms now neatly bound within the royal red cocoon. She swallows against the tight constriction of her throat. Blinks against tears that have sprung unbidden to her eyes. "No. No way."

"We have a storm to outrun, and you - in your effort to avoid _looking_ at him - risk falling behind. Do you think Thor would want that for you?"

"What do you care?"

"I don't."

She lifts her chin, indignance forming a retort upon her tongue. Then in sudden need to escape - to sweep past this subject - she continues onwards. Shrinking past Loki as she takes it recklessly upon herself to find the path ahead.

##########

Loki hisses through his teeth as he rolls his shoulders beneath Thor's weight. He can't be sure of the true source of his fatigue - the burden of Thor or that of his brother's precious Jane Foster. Are all mortals this subordinate?

"Are you trying to get us lost or killed?" He calls after her retreating back, frowning as she continues to pick her way over the rocks. "Or did the Aether leave you with a map?"

She slows then. Waits for him to catch up. And if her silence surprises him, he will not address the matter right now.

"Foolish woman." He hisses. "Do you not remember what I told you of the sandstorms of Svartalfheim?"

"They're like nothing I've seen on Earth?" She shrugs. Apathetic. Then with a huff of impatience, "Oh don't look at me like that! You didn't exactly offer _specifics_."

"They're vaster than you could imagine and more ferocious than you could dream." Loki casts a hand to their surroundings. To the grit and fragments of rock that lift and churn around them. To the swirling mass of darkness that looms ever closer. "This is but the outskirts of a maelstrom so vast, it matters not which direction you take - the fury of the sands will find you."

"So what? We're just going to walk aimlessly until we die?"

Loki laughs. A sharp, brittle sound. "Do I look so foolish?" And then he continues before a retort can make its way off her tongue. "I said it matters not what direction _you _take. _I_ however, know exactly where I'm going. There are pathways between Svartalfheim and Midgard, and we journey to the closest. But first we must find a cave and wait for the storm to pass."

"And you know of a cave?"

"Of course." Loki frowns. "You must realise this is not the first time I've journeyed to this realm. It's the reason Thor released me from my cage. A little way ahead we will find the shelter we need."

He passes a skeptical eye over Jane's willowy dress and delicate shoes. It really is quite astonishing that she's made it this far. _Why did Thor not think to find her suitable clothing before beginning this ridiculous journey?_ "Now, you'll need to remove the footwear and fix your skirt so you don't trip. We're about to to climb."

"Climb?"

"Yes." Loki sighs at her echo. "Up there."

The mortal blanches as she follows his gaze. The cave is visible, but it's little more than a slit in the mountain, two hundred feet above.

"You're kidding, right?"

Loki raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Instead he shifts Thor's weight and continues forward, picking out a path towards the cave above. It's hardly an unmanageable ascent, even handicapped by Thor's weight. But the howl of the winds are growing stronger, and if they don't climb quickly, they'll feel the brunt of the storm's ferocity once they gain some height. The woman can follow his advice or not. But he won't stand idle and wait to be swallowed.

##########

Jane is apprehensive as she surveys the climb. It's not quite a vertical cliff-face, but it's steep enough, and mountaineering is not her forté - so far as she's aware. Still, Loki is several feet above her by the time she hitches her skirt, so she kicks off her shoes, digs in and pushes herself to follow.

The climb is not so bad. At first. Jane uses the route Loki has taken as a guide for her own path up the mountain. And while Loki's legs are longer, Thor's body across one shoulder forces him to take smaller, more cautionary steps, so that for a while Jane is able to dig her toes into the same ledges and crevices as she scrambles after him.

Still, Loki manages to make the ascent look easier than it is, and as he draws further ahead, Jane feels herself start to panic as each gust of wind grows fiercer; sometimes pressing her flat against the cliff face, other times rocking her as she stretches from one ledge to another.

Then there comes a point where her skirt loosens to tangle with her feet and she missteps; sliding down a dozen or so feet amid a scatter of rock. With heartbeat hammering in ears, she bites her lip and gingerly examines the torn pads of her fingertips. Her feet are in the same state, going by the throbbing sting.

She looks up. Gravel continues to tumble from above; peppering her face like tiny darts. She squints against it for sign of Loki. He's too far ahead now - probably didn't even notice her fall. Nor care.

Frustration forces angry tears to her eyes and there's a lump in her throat that tastes more of despair than it does of dust. But damned if she's going to wait to be rescued or allow the storm to claim her! Wincing as the sharp rock sears the cuts on her skin, Jane digs her toes into a niche and pushes herself upwards once more.

##########

Three decades have passed since Loki last ventured into Svartalfheim, and in that time this mountain has borne the brunt of a hundred massive sandstorms. The erosion of the path he once knew has made the climb treacherous - especially with the body of his brother to burden him.

Finally there comes a point where he can carry him no longer, and he spares a glance downwards to warn Jane that he must budge Thor's body up onto a ledge. Through the growing darkness of the storm he spies her far below, staring at her fingers and fumbling to find the right hold. He groans inwardly. At this rate they will never reach the cave before those tumultuous plumes of sand reach out to sweep them off the cliff. Pressing his lips into a stern straight line, he frowns deep and hefts Thor onto the ledge. Then he makes his way back down. Deftly now, without that great oaf across his back.

"I suppose I should offer to carry _you _now." His face pinches in distaste as he hears himself make the suggestion. Fortunately he has no need to write it off as sarcasm - Jane's attention is fixated on something else.

"What the hell have you done with Thor!" She begins, eyes blazing in fury. "Typical! I knew you couldn't be trusted!"

"Calm yourself." Loki adapts his best silky smooth lilt. "I placed his body on a ledge so I could come back for you."

He holds out a hand then. Face schooled into an expression that is supposed to be benign. Innocent. Mockingly so.

She glares at him as if she thinks he's doing this for fun. Of course, a little bit of gratitude would be too much to ask. He wonders why he bothers. Would Thor laugh if he could see his brother cave to the whims of a woman? Of his own Jane Foster no less?

Loki suspects he would.

Jane for her stubborn part, refuses his offered hand. She finds another foothold. Then another Seems outrage is a good source of motivation for this woman. He files that tidbit of information to the back of his mind for later.

##########

Having Loki nearby to offer his assistance makes the climb easier, Jane has to inwardly admit. Not because she's willing to accept his help, but because she's determined _not _to. Each exasperated sigh or tut of impatience delivered between his teeth causes her to grit her own and push herself onwards. Thrusting herself over ledges and scrambling for purchase against rock that crumbles beneath her fingertips; sending sharp pangs of horror through her body at the thought of tumbling backwards…

At a point where a gust of wind nearly rocks her off the cliff and that fear of back-diving materializes into something sickening real, she hears herself call out to Thor. As if somehow he might wake from death and save her from being dashed to pieces upon the rocks below. But it is Loki who is suddenly grabbing her as her arms wheel out helplessly. It is Loki's slender fingers that dig sharply into her skin; hauling her up beside him with a grip so fierce she suspects she'll wear that imprint until the end of the world itself.

As his hold on her remains, forcing her to continue onwards and upwards, the wind begins to buffer them in earnest; scooping up every loose rock and throwing it against them until Jane thinks _surely _they cannot last upon this cliff face much longer. But then they reach the narrow rock shelf where Thor lies in his royal red funeral shroud.

And she realises that last climb was the easiest.

Far simpler to keep her thoughts on the immediate task of surviving, than to see that vivid reminder of what she has lost. Or find pause to worry for Darcy and Erik, left on Earth with no idea of what has happened to her - or of what is to come.

##########

The cave is barely fifty feet above now, but the storm is on the brink of consuming them. It would be beyond foolish to attempt to carry Thor any further, though Loki suspects Jane will throw herself over his corpse and remain on this ledge before accepting that.

"We must leave Thor here!" He shouts above the wind. "It's the only chance we have of making the cave in time."

Jane blinks hard against the swirling grit as she turns to face him. "Huh?"

"I will not carry Thor any further!" Again his words are whisked away, though this time she gets the gist clear enough.

"What? No!" She inches herself closer, expression fierce. "We're bringing him with us!"

"Jane, _think _about this." Loki shifts his tone from impatient to imploring. He sweeps a hand towards the plains of Svartalfheim below; now obscured by the twisting black cyclone of sand that is nearly upon them. "Look around you! This nightmare will soon engulf us, and I cannot carry both you _and _Thor."

"I don't need to be carried!" Jane's protest catches in her throat and she turns to smother a cough.

Loki waits until the cough breaks through, causing her to double over in effort to work through it, and then he moves to crouch before her. The flash of silver in one hand catches her startled attention, and then he draws his dagger through her skirt; piercing the fabric so that he can rip away the lower length from her knees. Ignoring her indignant gasp, he tears the piece in two, then winds one fabric strip around his face, covering his nose and mouth before handing the second half to her.

She takes the offering resentfully, and after she secures the makeshift mask he he takes her firmly by the arm, forcing her to face the cliff. The vice-like grip allowing no argument as he pushes her to resume their climb. This time leaving Thor's body on its mantel below them.

##########

The cave has been used as a storm refuge before. Enough times that there is a tall boulder inside of its narrow mouth, just the right size to seal out the storm, and a bundle of torches stacked within. Jane watches as Loki lights a torch, then budges the boulder into place; surprised that he can make the task look easy when it must weigh at least a ton.

Loki turns to her, catching the disbelief upon her face. "It is because your race is so weak, that our strength seems so remarkable." And then he adds with an edge, "or did you think _Thor _the only being capable of such feats?"

Her mouth is too dry. Too tasting of dirt for an argument. But his vehemence baits her nonetheless. "Actually I knew Asgardians were strong. I just figured you were the exception."

It almost seems the temperature drops in the moment it takes for Loki's eyes to narrow. A response sits unspoken upon his tongue. But for the thin shrieks of the wind that have threaded past the rock, the air between them hangs a hostile silence. Finally, deliberately, he shrugs. "I carried Thor up the cliff, did I not?"

Jane knows she should probably leave it there. But she can't. "As I recall, you left him on a ledge." Her voice breaks on the words, and she dashes angry tears from her eyes. She realises then that she's being unfair, but damned if she's going to apologise for it.

"You're not angry at me for leaving Thor behind." Loki states matter-of-factly. "You're angry at me for being the brother who survived."

For a time Jane cannot reply. She's too stunned by the truth of his words. "Perceptive, aren't you?" she manages finally.

"So my mother once said."

Jane wonders if it's by accident or design that he's managed to so effectively remind her of the loss _he _has suffered. On account of her, no less. And suddenly something sick and sour is making its way up her throat. Because when she really thinks about it… Thor's death lies on her shoulders too.

Loki moves then to light another torch, mounting one in the wall near the cave entrance before carrying the second deeper into the cavern. He turns, and in the flickering light Jane can see his face schooled to give away nothing of his thoughts. "If we descend into the cave a little way, we'll find water. No doubt your throat is as parched as mine?"

She nods. Keen to take his remark as a cue to let the matter rest. Unable to trust her voice incase it should break on her again.

##########

Loki leads her through an ancient trail, worn smooth by centuries of footprints. Water trickles from hidden crevices, to create a slippery descent that is at times more treacherous than their climb. Occasionally he slows, allowing her a chance to catch up, until finally the trickle of water becomes something heavier, and they come upon a waterfall that has formed within a large crack in the cave wall.

"Thank goodness." Jane mutters, cupping her hands beneath it. "I was getting ready to start licking the walls."

After she sates her thirst, Loki hands her the torch and steps forward to quench his own. Jane holds a hand to the firelight, grateful for its small sliver of warmth. A part of her grudgingly realises she should be thankful for Loki's diligence in keeping her alive. The rest wonders why it matters. Without Thor, what hope is there now for any of them?

She knows what the Dark Elf intends to do with the Aether. She saw his vision unfold as he drew the weapon from her veins. But with Thor dead, who is left to defeat him? The Avengers? Maybe. But she's the only person with knowledge of Malekith's intentions - and she's trapped upon a piece of grey rock with the very war criminal who brought the "superheroes" together. She wonders if Loki will help her to reach them if she tells him of Malekith's plans. Can she trust him with that? Probably not. She half-suspects he'd sooner aide Malekith.

The flames change direction suddenly, rippling as if disturbed. A dancing movement beyond catches her eye. Stepping forward, Jane shifts the torch from side to side, thinking it to be shadow play upon the cave wall. But the disturbance seems to hangs in the air itself, a thin haze visible by the dust particles that oscillate within it. Her mouth forms _Thor_ but the name dies on her lips. This anomaly has nothing to do with him. It never did. But she knows what this thing is, and as she bends to pick up a loose stone from the ground, she smiles suddenly as her hand touches upon something else.

##########

"Jane…" Loki could kick himself for not sensing the rift sooner. Now the mortal is ridiculously close to it, and if she's not careful she's going to get herself pulled into it.

"Look!" Whirling around to face him, Jane holds an object in the air; an absurd grin upon her face.

"A shoe?" He wonders if the water has turned her daft. "A fissure in space and time opens before you, yet you're excited by a _shoe_?"

"It's _Darcy's _shoe!" She cries. "This is where it wound up!"

He shakes his head and wonders if the madness is permanent. "Keep the shoe if you wish, but you have to step towards me..." He holds his hands before him, placating. "Quickly now, the rift is growing."

"Are you kidding?" Jane takes a step backwards, closer to the fluctuating haze. "This is a portal back to Earth! Look at these cans!" She casts the torch towards the ground and scoops something else from the floor. "And these keys!"

"No Jane," the rift is revolving faster now, increasing in size so that he can see the sharp outlines of a landscape on the other side. "That is not Midgard behind -"

But his warning comes too late. In a sudden pulse of energy, the rift opens wider, swallowing Jane and winking out of sight. Leaving Loki alone in the cavern.

And Jane trapped on Jotunheim.

* * *

_**Footnote:** In the movie, Jane and Thor had a very small sliver of time to stop Malekith before the alignment of realms was in full effect. That's kinda not going to work for me, so since this is already an AU, I'm going to adapt those portal jumps that took place during Malekith and Thor's fight (and play with time a little) to work for Jane and Loki's story instead._

_Also, I apologise if the mood of this chapter shifted as it drew towards the end. I began this chapter so long ago, and now that I've finally found myself armed with enough inspiration to return to it, I'm out of sync with the kind of ambience I was trying to create. I did listen to a good hour and a half's worth of Sounds of a Sandstorm during my first edit to help me describe the weather conditions, but perhaps I need something else to now serve as the soundtrack for this story… I'm thinking Quiet by This Will Destroy You for the next chapter. Or some dark moody movie score. Umm… Suggestions welcome!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Of Black Ice and Broken Spires**

Jane is on her knees, eyes squeezed shut in hope that if she stays here long enough, the portal will open again and take her somewhere else. _Anywhere else_.

This is not London. This fissured land with its knife-sharp contours and brittle edges. This is an apocalypse. A fusion of black ice and broken spires. Of frozen pillars and tumbled archways. It is a shattered landscape, the likes of which she has never seen. _Ever_. And that's an extremely uncomfortable thought, considering any place on Earth with such architectural ruins would have featured at least twice in National Geographic by now.

Granted, she's never traveled to Iceland or Antarctica or even the glaciers of New Zealand, but she has a pretty strong hunch that this… this is not Earth at all.

The only thing that terrifies her more than the realisation that she's stranded on _yet another _alien planet, is the fact that she is surrounded by ice and rock and snow, and she left her best thermal gear at home. As she rises to her feet, she curses Loki for making her lose the shoes. And part of her dress, for that matter. Not that having either would make a difference right now. But if she doesn't find warmth soon…

A rumble from deep within the frozen earth drives her back to her knees. The ground rolls beneath her palms. Across the broken valley below, an ice tower fractures with a resounding crack; sending a sleuth of ice and rock tumbling to a shattered pile at its base. She gapes in amazement. Does _every _realm come with its own set of terrible, immediate dangers?

Jane looks again to the still, empty space behind her that is clearly _not _a developing portal. Kicks herself for not listening to Loki. Kicks herself harder for admitting Loki was right.

"Abandon hope all ye who enter here." She mutters to herself. Then in a movement that's half run, half crawl, she scrambles down the icy hilltop towards a partially-demolished structure that's clearly no mere rock formation. She hopes the ruin is ancient and long-deserted. Something tells her the inhabitants of this realm must have to be brutal in order to survive.

############

Loki paces the empty cavern, a string of curses upon his lips. Jane Foster is gone. She is gone, and there is no one but herself to blame. He's relieved about it, really. Unbearable wench. He cannot fathom how Thor could tolerate her for three straight days.

Even so… he can't help but chew his thumb and search his mind for a solution to this new problem. The 'problem' being his ridiculous sense of obligation, that is. Thor is dead. Frigga is dead. Saving the wench will do nothing to win their favor. Or their forgiveness. So why should he concern himself with such an impossible task? Even should he _want _to retrieve her, there is absolutely no way he can - certainly not from _Jotunheim _of all places. If the Jotnar were to discover him upon their realm…

Groaning aloud, Loki presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. If the Jotnar were to discover _Jane _upon their realm…

No! She's not his problem! _Asgard _is his inheritance, not Jane Foster for crying out loud! Fate has given him a chance to surprise the Allfather with his heir's untimely death, and knock the old man from his throne while he's weak and grieving. He will not squander such an opportunity - Norns know he will not get another as good.

############

Just as Jane hopes, the ruin is deserted. It is, however, completely useless as a shelter - considering anything that may have once resembled a roof has long since tumbled to the ground. Desperate, she casts her eyes about for something - anything that may offer refuge. One half of a massive archway remains intact, the other lies a shattered mess. Tall pillars stretch uselessly towards the sky. Holding up nothing. Despair rolls within her stomach. Damnit! She's _not _going to die alone upon a frozen rock!

There. A crawlspace beneath a broken arch. It's not much - maybe it won't be any use at all - but something has to be better than nothing.

Grimacing as her frozen feet jar painfully upon the cracked, uneven ground, she forces herself to move; wiggling herself into the makeshift den; biting a cry as each knock sends searing pain through her frozen nerves. Finally, she works herself into a shivering ball. With the perfect vantage point to see the chasmed valley she left behind - and the hilltop where she hopes that damned portal will reappear.

Minutes slide pass. Maybe an hour? Jane cannot be sure. This land is eerily quiet. There is barely a breeze to stir the thin air - which is just as well considering it's difficult enough to draw breath, without the wind to steal it from her. Remembering the length of fabric - the makeshift dust mask - she wears loose around her neck, she fumbles now to tear it in half and bind her feet. It does nothing - nothing at all to warm her stinging feet. Again, she curses Loki.

Time passes.

There is a terrible squeezing sensation in Jane's chest. She tries to tell herself it's anxiety, but really, it's much worse than that. It's an indication that - somewhere between the thin atmosphere and likelihood of hypothermia - this realm will kill her before daybreak.

If… If whatever is now growling somewhere above her doesn't do the job first.

############

On Svartalfheim, the sandstorm has changed the landscape, creating new dunes and covering old landmarks. Unmindful of the freshly remade scenery, Loki makes his way back down the mountain, barely glancing towards the rock shelf where his brother's body lies buried. _Sentiment._ He scoffs. Perhaps, he ruefully acknowledges, there is a time and place for it. But now is not the place. And certainly not the time.

Without the dead weight of Thor or his troublesome woman to slow him, Loki reaches the skiff in no time. Or at least, the place where the skiff was last seen.

Flexing his hands, he closes his eyes and draws a slow deep breath; emptying his mind before stretching out his arms and channeling his energy down their lengths. Frowning with concentration, he draws his arms upwards, sending the sand before him twisting up into the air, higher and higher, until a flick of his wrists sends the small tornado scattering across the plains.

The skiff now uncovered, Loki steps towards the vessel as a green light ripples across his body, casting him in the illusion of a palace guard. A satisfied smile curls his lips as he looks down at his Einherjar garb.

Oh yes, Heimdall did them all a great favor in getting himself arrested. Odin will _never _see this coming.

############

The fear of being eaten alive has surpassed all other thought in Jane's head. As much as she wants to press herself deeper into the crawlspace, she holds herself taunt, barely daring to breathe. If the animal doesn't yet know she's here, it will soon enough if she allows panic to set in.

Occasionally the creature lets off a growl of excitement as its claws clatter across the ruins above; it's movements sending tiny pieces of ice and rock down upon her as it scrambles through the debris for its prey. Eventually, Jane stops flinching. Whatever the creature hunts, it isn't her.

Although… That realisation is not as comforting as she would like it to be.

Finally, the animal ambles away, crossing the open space before the mouth of her crawlspace so that she is finally able to get a glimpse of blue-black brindled fur - raised in tufts along the ridge of its neck, and a low sloping back that reminds her very much of...

"A _hyena_?" Jane freezes suddenly at the rasp of her own voice. Fortunately, the animal is out of earshot, intent on nuzzling the cracks in the ground; occasionally stopping to trap something between its large paws before squealing with excitement and gulping down its tiny prize. It's kinda cute, she thinks inwardly this time. Long as it doesn't live on anything larger than a bug.

She watches the animal - Larry, she names it - weave back and forth across the fractured ground. With the fear of being eaten alive wearing off, the burst of adrenaline that tricked her into forgetting how cold she is has also faded. She wonders… What if she can kill the animal? Then she could use its body for warmth. Like… Like in Star Wars.

The thought makes her feel nauseous. But yet… Given a sharp knife and half a chance, she would do it. Right now, she'd do _anything _for warmth. Except, she has nothing sharp at hand, and she would have to be a delirious fool to think she could ever hope to take down an alien hyena. Even if she has given it the name Larry and convinced herself it only eats bugs.

Tucking her chin into her chest, Jane wraps her arms tighter around herself. She hopes daybreak will bring sunlight and warmth, but so far the black and blue hues of the planet are not changing - the horizon isn't getting any lighter. She closes her eyes. Tries to ignore her cramping limbs and the terrible ache in her chest that punishes her with every breath.

Evidently, daybreak is a long way off yet.

############

As Loki steers the skiff towards the hidden pathway to Asgard, his thoughts return to the mortal. _Foolish woman_. Still… There's more than one way into Jotunheim. Just as there's more than one way into any realm. He of all people knows this. Perhaps he is the _only _one who knows. And if his calculations are correct, the rift has likely deposited her close to one such ley line. Which means if he can find her before the Jotnar…

His knuckles tighten on the rudder. No. Jane's plight can wait, damn it. He has a more pressing issue to attend. Besides, if he steps foot into that realm without an army at his back, the Frost Giants will skewer him to a rock and carve pieces off of him to feed to their beasts. They are, after all, renown for their love of such 'sport'.

The woman can fend well enough for herself. Perhaps she'll bore them to death with her mindless chatter. If she manages not to name-drop him, they might even keep her as a pet.

############

Larry is dying. At some point, Jane has fallen into a doze and woken to the sound of the animal dragging itself back towards the broken archway. Its claws clatter over ice until it finally collapses. Close enough so that she can hear the air drag through its lungs. Slower and slower until barely a movement rises from its chest.

If she were in a better frame of mind, she'd question how the creature has become injured. She'd notice the thin trail of blood it has left in its wake. But she is not in a better frame of mind at all. She's thinking seriously now about that Star Wars scene. Of how warm the creature's body must be. And how that warmth may help her stave off her own death a little while yet, if she can just reach it before it grows stiff and cold...

It takes a long time before Jane can convince her body to unfold itself. Even longer before she can make her way out of the crawlspace. Finally she reaches open ground and is able to rise to her knees. Inching closer to the beast until she can place one hand tentatively upon its flank. The creature is too close to death to protest at her touch, and her palms prickle at the warmth of its body. The fur is thick and coarse, but so so wonderfully warm...

And then she feels something wet and hot against her fingertips, and she draws her hand away to see her palm coated in dark blood. Finally she sees the broken stub of a spear sticking out from its chest and realises someone - or something - has hunted this creature. And whoever is responsible for that spear… Is bound to be close behind.

Heart thumping in chest, Jane crab-crawls backwards towards her pitiful refuge. The blood from her hand smears across the ice. Panicking, she pulls the thin bindings from her feet and tries to wipe away the trail she has left, but her efforts only serve to smear it further. She can hear voices now. They puncture the air with sharp excitement. Forgetting the blood and the cramps and the searing pain of the cold, she dives towards the crawlspace, wriggling herself as far into the depths of it as she can as the figures of a hunting party come into view.

############

**3.b**

It is a hunting dog that leaves the fray of the hunting party as they descend upon their quarry, to discover Jane beneath the broken archway. Jane strikes out at its snapping muzzle with her rock, but it is only when the creature is dragged suddenly away, that she is given some respite.

Though only for as long as it takes for her would-be rescuer to lean down, peer into the narrow opening and spy the dog's prize.

She gasps as red eyes widen in surprise within a scarred, angular face that is almost human-like in appearance; but that it's as blue as the rest of this world and so much larger than her own.

"Oh god!" Jane feels sharp rock dig painfully against her back as a huge hand reaches in; long fingers clutching at air as she presses herself out of reach. But then something is crackling and shifting… The fingers are fusing together to form a sheath of ice like a sword. Then, if that's not reminiscent enough of _Terminator 2_, the sword begins extending. Stretching towards her face until it presses against her cheek.

"Okay okay! I'll come out!" Jane squeezes her eyes closed against a sharp prick of pain as the point pierces her skin. Just_._ "Please stop!"

She can feel a trickle of blood thread its way down her face. Her heart is thumping in her ears. After a moment, the pressure of the sword retracts. Jane opens her eyes to find the hunter staring expectantly at her.

With a grimace, she forces herself to move. To crawl out from her useless little lair. The hunter shifts back as she rises to her feet. She is surrounded by a group of them; dwarfing her with their height. And when she peers upwards, she figures the astonishment on their strangely patterned faces is no doubt a mirror of her own.

Snow is falling heavy now. The horizon is still as dark as it was when she first found herself on this world. "Are you going to kill me?" Her teeth chatter as she forces out the words. "Because if you're not, do you have a spare blanket?"

The hunters look to each other. One shrugs. Another reaches to grab her by the arm before being stopped by the one who produced the sword-arm. They exchange a few words. Their language sharp and jarring and utterly incomprehensible. Finally the largest of them turns away to pick up the carcass of the hyena-like creature and throw it over his shoulder. The rest follow as he strides across the open ground. Leaving Jane with Sword Arm, who motions his dog to stay at his side before quirking an eyebrow at her in a manner that seems oddly familiar. Then he too turns and walks away.

"So… No blanket?" She croaks to his well-muscled back. Of course not. These beings wear little more than loan cloths. Even if they could understand her, they're obviously impervious to the cold. Sighing, Jane turns, limping from the pain of her frostbitten feet as she reluctantly follows the hunting party.

As they pass the hilltop, a glimmer of movement catches Jane's eye. Her breath hitches as she sees chunks of ice and rock spinning in mid-air. The damned portal!

Heart thumping, she glances to the hunters ahead of her. They're immersed in conversation - oblivious to the swirling vortex only fifty feet to their left. Her body trembles from more than just the cold now. Adrenalin is charging through her; convincing her she can beat the cold, beat the pain and outrun the hunters. This is her chance - her one chance - to get the hell out of here. She _has _to take it.

Like a coiled spring, Jane leaps across a large crack in the earth and sprints up the icy bank. The searing pain of her feet only motivates her to push her aching limbs further. Then the bark of the dog shatters the silence. Shouts ring out. The beast whines to give chase. But it doesn't matter - she's nearly at the portal! And damned if she's going to let anything stop her now.

* * *

_**Footnote:** I apologise for so little of Loki in this chapter. I will amend that shortly! This one was due to be 2000 words longer, but as I reread it today, I realised this is really the best place for a chapter break. And I figure shorter chapters will mean I can hopefully post more regularly - rather than leave those who follow this fic waiting even longer for a new installment!_

_Thank you to those who have favourited, followed and reviewed this fic. Each FF notification helps to feed the muse! Thanks particularly to dristi5683 for your ongoing encouragement, and Hyperdrive 24 for coming along at just the right time to motivate me when my drive was beginning to lag. To Niphredhil \- Enigma are an old fav! So I took you up on that music suggestion and wrote the initial opening scene them. Particularly Age of Loneliness. While musing about my fanfic woes on Tumblr (namely, how to keep Jane from dying of hypothermia?) Robin-the-Mask inspired the introduction of a wild animal (who I named Larry, after my son's favourite Minecraft skeleton soft toy) and Stabbedinthenameofscience suggested stuffing Jane in a dead thing à la Star Wars. So if you guys ever read this... Thanks also for inspiring portions of this chapter! _

_Now on to fill in all the gaps of my next partially-penned chapter - if anyone would like a lil' sneak preview, just let me know! ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**  
**Of Furs and Frozen Things**

Jane awakens to a warm - albeit uncomfortable - belly, and a splitting headache. She opens her eyes to see the rugged, frozen ground merely inches below her face. Alarmingly, it is swaying wildly. Or perhaps it is _she _who is swaying wildly. Her body rolling with the movement of the beast she has been draped across. The animal's pungent, earthy scent invades her nose and she tries to push against it, to draw her head upwards and take stock of her surroundings. Her efforts only serve to produce a growl from the beast, and she flinches with a gasp as it turns to gnash its teeth at her arm.

A voice rings out, snapping a command in the sharp foreign tongue of the giant blue-skinned hunters she had tried so hard to outrun. _Turns out _that _plan was a fail. _The dog-beast ceases its snapping, though it gives a low growl deep within its chest before returning its attention to the journey ahead. Defeated, Jane sinks her face into its flank. At least, she thinks to herself, the creature is warm.

It's still night, Jane observes. Or rather, that strange ever-present almost-night which casts this world in tones of blue yet never seems to become daylight or full darkness. She wonders if this realm has ever seen the early morning crest of a sun. Certainly, it's people seem to survive well enough without need of sunlight or warmth. Or even clothing, for that matter.

Returning her attention to her surroundings, Jane notices the uneven, fissured terrain has given way to large cobblestones of ice - each block as smooth as glass. She frowns and tries again to raise her head enough to look around. Have they reached one of the distant still-standing towers she saw from the hilltop? Because if that's the case, they're now _miles _away from the portal.

Finally they draw to a halt and Jane finds herself being lifted from the animal and dropped to her feet. She falls. Ungracefully. Sprawling to the smooth ice floor. The impact as painful to her dignity as it is to her frozen nerves. "Ow…" She grits her teeth and sucks in a breath to hold in the pain; adamant she will not display weakness to these beings. At least, no more than she already has...

Without the beast to share its warmth, the icy cold assaults her once more. Her body rocks with long shudders as she pushes herself to her knees and stares through damp locks of hair at the five sets of bare blue feet that surround her. From her current vantage point, she daren't risk raising her eyes much higher - those are small loincloths they wear after all.

Ducking her head, she wills herself to rise; one leg moving until she can place her foot flat on the ice. She can barely flex her toes. Her feet are hard and pale and almost entirely without feeling. It's then that the slow-coiling thread of fear that has been undulating through her stomach now sends static shocks of panic through her body. She remembers an arctic trip to study the Aurora Borealis. And an ill-equipped student who spent a day lost in the snow. _Frostbite. Second stage. If she doesn't get warmth to her extremities soon..._

"I can't…" Shame flooding her cheeks, Jane drags her eyes to the blue-skinned giant standing directly before her. He wears more decoration than those who flank him. There is greenery attached to his shoulders as if fused to his skin, and a ridge of short horns circle his brow. Like a crown. The mob boss, she figures. "Please, I need to get warm. I need..."

Unmoved by her plight, the leader watches in impassive assessment until she feels her frayed nerves cannot hold her any longer. She draws a long breath. _C'mon Jane, you're stronger than this!_ She tries again to push herself to her feet. Jaw aching with determination. Body shaking with cold. And when she manages to hold her balance, she juts her chin defiantly to study him in turn. Her eyes drawn to the raised patterns on his face; noting the half-circles on his forehead and thin lines that accentuate his cheekbones and etch his chin.

The hunter to his left mutters something. His tone sharp and quick. The one with the sword arm, she thinks, if the angular features are anything to recognize him by. His markings bear similarities to the leader's, and she wonders if it's a sign of family or rank or manhood or - her eyes slide to the formidable spears each warrior bears - or how many kills they've made.

Finally the giant grows weary of his assessment and flicks a dismissive hand before turning away. His companions follow suit, but for Sword Arm, who steps forward to seize her.

"Wait!" She tries to throw herself towards the retreating figures, but Sword Arm is a solid rock against her thrashings as he proceeds to half-hold her upright and half drag her towards a wide corridor of carved ice slabs.

"No! You don't understand!" She's desperate now, fighting against her giant captor. "I have to get back to Earth - to Midgard! - Malekith is going to destroy everything! He'll destroy _your _planet too!"

Sword Arm stops moving. His grip on her arm tightens as he swings her around to face the group. She wonders, hopefully, if these beings can actually understand her.

The leader has made no further effort to approach, but given that he's no longer retreating, she figures he's willing to hear her out at least. "My name is Jane. I'm from Midgard." She clears the rasp from her throat and begins again, slower. "Malekith has the Aether, and he's going to use it against all of us."

One hunter-warrior mutters something to the leader. His words low and guttural. She looks up at the one who holds her steady. There is nothing in his stoic expression to give any indication he understands.

Testing her weight on her feet, she pushes herself taller and calls again to the leader. "Malekith's taking the Aether to Midgard. He's gonna use the Convergence to unleash it through all of the realms - and I'm the only one who knows! There are people on Ea- _Midgard _that can stop him, but I have to get there and warn them!"

This is getting nowhere, she realises. "Your world is gonna go BOOM!" Her bellow rebounds around the hall as she throws her arms out in mimicry of an explosion.

A snigger at her side causes her to snap her attention to the one who holds her. "Are you _laughing _at me?" She cries, outrage replacing any last vestiges of caution. "Excuse me, but this is not a laughing matter!"

"_Male-kith?_"

The voice that rings out from the shadows is unexpectedly feminine. Jane turns to find the mob boss and his companions have been joined by one who wears a white fur cowl and holds a staff carved of ice in place of a spear.

"Yes," Jane says. "he's a Dark Elf. From Svartalfhiem."

"I'm familiar with this." The words echo off the high vaulted ceilings, carrying to Jane in a tone is sharp and quick and heavily accented.

"He's going to destr -"

"I'm familiar with this tale, also." The giantess flicks a finely-etched hand; a dismissive gesture that is becoming disconcertingly familiar. Jane opens her mouth and closes it wordlessly as the cowled figure steps forward. "It would not be the first time our world has been ravaged. We rebuild."

"No, I don't think you understand -"

"It is _you _who does not understand, little one." When the giantess smiles, Jane can see rows of neat, sharp teeth. She steps back - into the ice-cold chest of the warrior who holds her.

"Fair enough." Jane stutters, desperate to end a conversation that feels less like a conversation and more like a slow-building threat. "Then maybe you could just… Let me go home?"

"Maybe." The giantess echos. "Or maybe we keep you here a little longer. I'm curious to see who might search for you."

"No one's searching for me." Jane's voice breaks on the words as she thinks of Thor; dead and discarded on Svartalfheim. And of Darcy and Erik; probably pacing her London flat, awaiting her return. "Least, no one who could ever hope to find me."

"Hmm." The giantess's red eyes narrow, though her smile glitters. Uncomfortably so. "Then I, Skadi, will grant you accommodation while I think on this."

With a nod to Sword Arm, Skadi turns on her heel and rejoins her group. Jane's heart sinks as the warrior push her onwards. This time, as she's led down the wide corridor, she doesn't bother to protest.

#########################

The definition of 'accommodation' appears to have been lost on Skadi, Jane suspects. She has been led into a large room, but everything within it is carved of ice or stone. Hardly accommodating, she thinks. And colder than a freezer box.

"Please, is there _anywhere _warmer than this?" Desperation piques Jane's voice as Sword Arm crosses to a high arched window. She moves to intercept him, drawing herself as tall as she can - an effort which brings her pathetically level with the giant's torso. It's difficult to look up and meet those blood-red eyes, but she forces herself to do so nonetheless. "You don't even understand what freezing means, do you?"

The warrior's angular features give away nothing as he stares down at her, impassive. Ruby orbs unreadable and so utterly alien. Finally he places two great hands upon her shoulders and shifts her without effort from his path. Then with a sweeping move of his hand, casts a thin layer of ice across the window like a pane; blocking out the glacial wind that stirs the room. She gapes in astonishment as he shoots her a look that cannot fail to be interpreted as _smug_, and despite herself, she feels something furious start to thread up her throat to form sharp words upon her tongue. Then the blue-skinned giant reaches into a pouch at his waist and withdraws a small vial. Removing the wooden stopper, he offers it stick in Jane's throat as she stares at the vial. At best, it probably holds a form of alcohol. Something that will trick her body into feeling warm. At worst…

A string of protests stick in Jane's throat as she stares at the vial. At best, it probably holds a form of alcohol. Something that will trick her body into feeling warm. At worst…

Sword Arm says something in his strange sharp tongue that, despite her utter inability to understand, carries the universal message of "drink the damn thing or I'll tip it down your throat."

"Fine then." She croaks, accepting the small bottle and taking a tentative sniff. _More like rocket fuel! _Recoiling at the sharp bitter odor, she spares another glance towards the giant. His eyebrow has risen a notch. Shrugging, she knocks it back, wincing as the burn steals the breath from her lungs.

Satisfied, the warrior strides to a box carved of ice, pulls out a fistful of brindle furs and throws them to her. Clutching them gratefully, she buries her hands into their soft warmth.

She doesn't care then, that he steps out into the hallway. She doesn't even care as he draws his palms in the air and causes great shards of ice to rise from the floor and form a barricade. Her body is filled with a glorious fire; her feet and hands tingle as warmth rushes into them to defrost the nerves.

"Thank you," she mumbles to an empty room as she draws the furs around her shoulders and sinks to the ground. She's not safe here, she knows it. She needs to regroup her thoughts and figure out a way to get out of here. Certainly, she shouldn't give in to the alluring warmth that beckons her to lay down amid the furs and sleep. But... Her eyelids are so heavy. Each blink lasts longer and longer. Surely if she just takes a moment to close her eyes and consider her options...

#########################

"I sent an embassy to the Dwarves of Nidavellir. Their mages confirm the urgency of your story."

Jane's eyelids flutter open. Her sight comes into focus upon a length of white fur that pools around Skadi's feet. She pushes herself up from the pile of brindle furs she lies burrowed within. "Good." She says groggily. A small niggle in the back of her mind wonders how long she's been out. She swallows back the growing surge of panic. "Good. Will you let me return to Midgard now?"

"You speak of Midgard, yet you wear the stink of _Asgard_. We of Jotunheim are friends of neither." Skadi's voice has lost its beguiling softness and now punctures the air like a thousand points of ice."Tell me, little one, why should I aide you?"

"I… Uh..." _Jotunheim_. That name rings a bell, though Jane can't place it. "Look, I'm the one who found the Aether. And - and somehow it ended up inside of me. In my _veins_. Then Thor turned up and brought me to -"

"Thor?" Skadi hisses, bearing over her. "You traveled with that _oaf_?"

"_Now you're sounding just like..." _The half-muttered retort trails away as she remembers Loki's words as he threw her before Malekith.

"I traveled with Loki. Loki of Jotunheim!" Bolting upright, Jane clutches to the memory. She can't fathom how Loki can be associated with this realm, but if these people are enemies of Thor, then perhaps they're allies of Loki. Though it pains her to betray Thor, right now she'll take whatever she can get if it means returning home...

But barely has Thor's brother's name left Jane's lips before she is lifted from the furs and hoisted into the air. She gasps, but the short intake of air remains trapped in her mouth. Skadi's hands are at her throat, squeezing…

"What do you know of _Loki_!" The giantess screeches; fingers pressing harder. "What do you know of that bastard runt!"

Jane claws at Skadi's hands. Cold as ice. Hard as stone. Immovable. She cannot _breathe_…

"Allow me." Beyond the blood thumping in Jane's ears, she hears a new voice.

And then the pressure releases from her throat as she slips through Skadi's massive fingers, to fall in a heap at her feet.

There is no chance to recover. At once she is lifted again and pushed against a wall. The ice behind her crackles as it melts and refreezes around her, holding her firmly in place.

The mob boss stands before now. Or perhaps Skadi was the mob boss all along. Jane cannot be sure. But if the giantess was beguiling with her initial mercy, this being has no such facade. The ridges upon his brow almost seem to rise like hackles as he steps in close, a low growl precedes his words. Like a wolf giving warning before it attacks.

"Where is Loki." It's not a question. It's a command. Given in a voice that sounds like the quaking of the earth itself.

"I left him in Svartalfheim." Jane's eyes widen as he raises his hand towards her; except it's not a hand. It's a sword of ice.

"Býleistr told me of how he coaxed you from that hole." The words rumble in Jane's ear. She forces herself to stare straight ahead - to concentrate on the green leaves fused to the giant's shoulder - as she feels the sword edge trace a path across her cheek. "Perhaps the blade will now coax you to tell us of Loki."

"I don't know what else to say!" She cries, biting her lip as she feels something, _her blood_, trickle down her neck. "I left him in Svartalfheim, in a cave! I don't know where he is now!"

"Careful, Helblindi." Another new voice. Another new face steps forward. But no, this one is Sword Arm. _Býleistr_. "She is but a mortal. Her blood will not sustain her if you allow it to pool at her feet."

"Then I will feed her to the Frost Beasts!" The smile Helblindi turns on her is that of a beserker. An alien mirror of the manic images she saw a hundred times across every TV channel when Loki rampaged through New York. "Unless you wish her for your bedslave, brother?"

Jane shudders. Her heart is a wild bird, with wings flapping desperately within its cage.

"Don't be revolting." Býleistr steps back, face pinching in distaste. Now that she can understand him, his words are smooth. Serpentine. "But she will be of better use as bait, than a meal for your beasts."

"Indeed." This from Skadi now. "We need only wait for Loki to come for her."

Loki won't come for me. Jane thinks inside her head. But if it allows her some respite from the threat of being a _Frost Beast's_ meal, she sure as hell won't tell them that.

#########################

"Forgive me, my liege. I've returned from the Dark World with news."

Odin turns to his envoy, his nerves a wary knot of apprehension. There can be nothing good in this news if his envoy stands before him with an expression that could curdle milk. "Thor?"

"There was no sign of Thor, or the weapon, but…"

The Allfather waits. The knot tightens. "What?"

"We captured the traitor, Loki. He has told us the whereabouts of the weapon."

Brow furrowing with impatience now, it's all Odin can do to not stride forward and shake the words from his envoy's gammering mouth. "_And_?"

"He sent Jane Foster through a portal - to Jotunheim." The envoy pauses. "The weapon is now in the possession of the Jotun King, Helblindi."

"_Helblindi_." Odin's grip tightens on Gungnir. Laufey was a formidable enemy in his time, but at least the millenias had tempered him. The truce between them may have yet remained - may have given him a platform for negotiation - had Thor and Loki not each sought to wage war against the Jotun and destroy their realm. Had Loki not engineered Laufey's death to prove himself a worthy son of Asgard...

Odin shakes old memories from his head and returns his thoughts to Laufey's heir, Helblindi. _He is as hungry for war as Thor had once been. Hungrier still for vengeance. What would compel Loki to send the weapon to him?_ Had he hoped to find refuge amongst his birth-kind using the power within Jane Foster's veins as a sweetener?

Rubbing a weary hand across his brow, Odin leans heavy on Gungnir. Damn Thor and his recklessness! His fool's errand! His son's effort to avoid battle has only landed the weapon into the hands of an old enemy. And there is only one way they can save themselves now.

"Assemble the Einherjar." The Allfather's voice booms across the chamber as he turns his attention to the guards beyond the messenger. "We go to Jotunheim. We go to war."

There is a smile then, that flickers across the envoy's face. It catches the corner of the Allfather's eye and causes him to turn sharply towards him. But the soldier stands with head bowed, eyes cast towards the ground. Mouth a fine drawn line. Expressionless. And Odin turns back towards the door, shrugging the suspicion from his shoulders as he strides from his throne room.

Let the envoy await his return.


	5. Chapter 5

"Really, Jane Foster, is my company so terrible that you'd prefer to liaise with the Frost Giants?"

Something spears through Jane's chest at the sound of that voice. For a moment, as her thoughts hover groggily between dreamscape and consciousness, she can almost place it as…

No. It's not Thor. Of course not. There is nothing about that curt coolness that could ever compare to the warm depth of Thor's voice. And besides, Thor is...

_Shit! _A small cry catches in Jane's throat as memories crash upon her. She throws her arms about her head as if it such an action could shield her from the last few days. Thor is dead. Malekith has the Aether. How long has it been since Svartalfheim? Days? A week? A muscle twitches in her leg as she wills herself to move. She _has _to move.

But god, sitting up is so hard. It seems an insurmountable effort just to peel open her eyes. And then, as a tall lean figure - the owner of that voice - steps into view, her heartbeat instantly begins to pick up pace at the further realisation that her eyes just won't focus. The face is blurring in and out of view behind a rippling pulse of green light. It is, but it isn't…

"Loki?" Jane drags her hands through the furs that cocoon her. Her body is too heavy. Her mind a tarpit in which thoughts are sinking away. Everything before her eyes is slowly undulating. Quite disconcertingly. _What was in that drink?_ "What… What are you doing here?"

"Oh you know…" The figure steps back. Floats. It floats back, she thinks. " I just happened to be visiting family, and thought I'd stop in to say hello."

She blinks hard. "_Really_?"

"No, you idiot. I'm rescuing you."

The attitude is clearly Loki's. But the figure that keeps dancing from view is all wrong. And certainly, Jane can't imagine Thor's vengeful, self-serving brother would be anything less than pleased to have her out of his way, let alone bother to come after her at all.

For a moment, Jane isn't sure what to say. It's all she can do just to fight the deeply physical desire to just allow her head to fall back onto the furs. To cave in to the pull of sleep… But then, as she watches the figure move into the direction from which Byleistr retrieved the furs, the obvious question comes to mind. "Why?"

"Why?" He repeats, pulling out a fur-lined boot and throwing it towards her before rummaging for its partner. "What, would you prefer to stay?"

"God no!" Jane stares uncomprehending at the boot. How it dances upon the blankets. Shifting up and down as if bobbing on waves. The fur has become an ocean. And there's no way her arms can reach across that vast expanse… Perhaps this is all a trick. Some form of Jotun interrogation. She should try, at least, to understand the point of it all. "I meant, why would you care to rescue _me_?"

He crouches before her, reaching out a pale slender hand to press the second boot into her own. "Footwear goes on your feet, Jane. I suggest you try it."

She stares dumbly. She still can't understand the lines of his face. Why they keep shifting. Why _everything _keeps shifting. Shaking her head, she sucks in a breath and forces herself to move. To snake out a hand and grab him by an arm. His eyes widen in surprise. She presses her fingers against what looks like gilded metal but feels like supple leather. _It makes no sense._ Frowning, she pushes herself to focus. "Do you have _any _idea what they're going to do to you if they find you? Do you have any idea what their leader wants to do to _me_!"

"I have a fair idea." Loki offers curtly, plucking her fingers from their grasp. "Now, put on the boots. We don't exactly have time to chat."

"He threatened to feed me to his Hell Beasts." She continues, unmoving. And then her eyelids flutter; mind wandering again as she mumbles groggily, "or maybe they were Frost Beasts…"

"Not that I particularly care, but," The figure who may-or-may-not-be Loki tilts his head and taps a finger to his chin, "did one of them strike you in the head?"

"And Sword Arm gave me a drink. It made me really warm." Jane's hands cling instinctively as she finds herself being lifted to her feet. "They were friendlier before I mentioned you..."

"What did you -" The words are cut short as Jane teeters forward; crashing into a solid chest. "Oh for the love of the Norns!"

Jane can feel her mind tumbling backwards into the murky depths of unconsciousness. And she can't stop the fall.

"Must I be _everyone's _packhorse?"

The exasperation reaches her as darkness presses in and forces her beneath. Relief and fear intertwine. That tone. Those words. Of course. It could _only _be Loki.

######

The next time Jane opens her eyes, she's alone. The heavy fog inside her mind has lifted, leaving her thoughts clear and her exposed skin once more feeling the chill. Surprisingly, she's still in the same sparse room. Still lying amid the same furs. And there's no sign that Loki was ever here. So what was that? A drugged dream? Jotun interrogation?

Pulling a fur around her shoulders, Jane rises tentatively to her feet. She _is _wearing the animal hide boots. So that, at least, was real. _Whatever_, she shrugs to herself. The doorway is no longer barricaded by spears of ice. No point standing here puzzling over hallucinations.

Grabbing another fur for good measure, Jane clutches it to her chest, burrowing her fingers into it's reassuring warmth as she makes her way from the room. The smooth glass-like corridor is empty. Not a guard in sight. She supposes they wouldn't expect someone so fragile and human to make a break for it. Or survive long, should she try. She can't help but feel slightly indignant at the supposition. Even as a cautionary part of her warns that maybe they'd be right. Maybe these stolen furs won't be enough to protect her from the miles of frozen wasteland she's going to have to cross to find that damned portal.

But she's seen a vision of the Aether embracing the universe and poisoning it beneath its grasp. And she's spent far too long on this world. If she doesn't at least _try _to stop that terrible prophecy from playing out, she's only going to wind up watching those red-black tendrils snake around her sooner or later anyway. Better to die trying...

Reaching the stairs, she cautiously descends towards what she hopes will be the wide atrium where she first encountered Skadi. The niggling voice of uncertainty causes her to hesitate mid-step. What fool would expect this place to be deserted? Wouldn't it be better to -

And then she hears a chorus of shouts ring out like a terrible roar from below. Loud and frantic and full of rage as they bounce off the walls towards her. She freezes. Fear contracting her muscles so that she cannot move up nor down. _Surely it's Loki. _His appearance was no dream after all. And now he's up to something - some diversion or perhaps they've caught him or...

The need to _know _unlocks her muscles and she she clears the last few steps, darting behind an ice pillar at the corridor's wide entranceway before she can lose her nerve to move once more. The pillar provides the perfect vantage point and she watches in disbelief as a group of blue giants surge forward to fight head-to-head against an army of what looks like - what couldn't possibly be - Asgardians. Golden capes billow as men clad in burnished silver duck forward and back against the Jotun; striking out with swords that sing with electricity. Forcing the ill-prepared giants to fall beneath their blades. And there amidst them all - a regal figure astride a massive black horse with more legs than it could possible need - _Odin_. Imposing in his battle armour, but so terribly frail beneath it all.

"What the..." Shrinking from view of the battle, Jane's mind reels. Why would Odin be in Jotunheim? Why would he not be crossing the realms in pursuit of Malekith? Surely he'd know the Dark Elves have the Aether? Surely he'd know of Thor's death? Heimdall would have told him as much...

But Heimdall allowed them to escape. And he allowed himself to be imprisoned as a traitor because of it. So if his place is now in a dungeon rather than at the Bifrost's edge, how would Odin know the truth? And why would Asgard's King heed consultation from someone who could simply be betraying him further?

_He thinks I still have the Aether. _She realises. That's why he's here. The only reason why he's here.

A high-pitched screech cuts through the fray, causing all other sounds to fade away. Skadi stands at the edge of the atrium. Flanked by two of the largest, most menacing creatures Jane has ever seen. _Frost Beasts_, her mind supplies. Across the floor, the giantess raises her ice spear above her head as a war-cry tears from her deep blue lips. And then the jotun are surging forward again, their energy renewed, and Odin is shouting commands to his soldiers as Skadi's beasts smash into them...

Staggering back from the pillar, Jane spins away, back up the stairs. Her mind a racing blur as the roar of those beasts reverberate through her brain; stealing away any sense of self or self-control. Heart hammering a frantic beat within her chest, she stumbles past rows of doors, feet slipping on glass-like ice as pure animal instinct drives her from that nightmare scene. A still small part of her knows it's foolish to throw herself deeper into this palace. She should be trying to find a way out, not up! But she can't help herself. Can't stop this headlong flight. This need to escape the cries and the blood and the horror of so many falling beneath each other's blades. And all because of her. All because Thor brought her to Asgard...

Finally she must slow to catch her breath. One hand pressed against a smooth ice wall as she drops the furs to her feet and drags in great gasps of frozen air that catch like splinters in her throat. Blind panic is still thrumming strong; but guilt is quickly catching up. She should go back. If Odin is here for the Aether, she should go back. His army is wasted on these giants - it's the Dark Elves he should be fighting against. It's Earth he should be leading his army to. To stop Malekith before the Convergence swings into full effect.

But it's too late. Skadi's beasts moved through Odin's army as if they were swatting flies. How can there be anything left of them? They're all dead, she realises. First Frigga, then Thor… Now Odin and all of his men. Dead. Because of me.

The scuff of a footfall interrupts Jane's grief. Snatching up the furs, she dashes into the closest room; finding it to be completely bare of all but the walls that separate it from the next.

Heart jackhammering, Jane sidles to the doorway and peers into the corridor. Three giants have stopped in the doorway of a room; one stepping in to check it before joining his companions with a shake of his head.

They're searching for her.

"Think, Jane... She utters frantically beneath her breath. A gust of wind ruffles her hair. The window.

Despite her careful steps, it seems each quiet scuff of her leather-soled boots will bring the Jotun running. And when she finally reaches the paneless window, a wave of sickness jolts her stomach to discover this great ice palace sits on the very edge of a terrible ravine, and there's no way she could survive falling those hundreds of feet.

A shout from the hallway causes her to jump back in surprise. Footsteps are suddenly drawing closer, their beat pounding the ground in time to her accelerating heart. Two blue figures past the doorway. Then the third. So set on their pursuit that they don't spare a glance sideways to see her standing frozen at the window.

Releasing a long-held breath, Jane feels her body sag in a moment's relief before she regroups her her thoughts. If this side of the palace lines the edge of a ravine, she must make her way to the other side. Now, before the Jotun return. While Skadi and her warriors and her terrible frost beasts are intent on their bloodshed. _Come on!_ Her mind urges. _Move your feet, Jane!_

Whirling back towards the doorway, she jumps back in surprise as a figure steps through, blocking her escape.

"Shi-" The exclamation catches in Jane's throat as she stops, panting, in the middle of the room. "Loki!"

"Quiet!" Striding forward, the Asgardian casts a quick glance around the bare room before grabbing her arm with a frown and tugging her back towards the doorway.

"What are you -"

"I said _quiet_!" He hisses, fingers tightening on her arm as he pulls her into an opposite room. This one as devoid of furnishings as the last.

There are voices in the corridor. Whatever diversion Loki staged has failed. The Jotun already return to resume their search.

"Fantastic." Loki mutters. Then they are crossing to the window, and he's pushing her out onto the sill. This side doesn't hang over a ravine at least, but even still...

"We're a story up, Loki!" Jane strikes a fist against him, frantic to escape his grasp. "Where am I supposed to go?"

He stops then and raises an eyebrow. "Down?"

And then he's jumping - carrying her with him in his grasp. And Jane is squeezing her eyes tight and trying desperately not to scream as she finds herself clutched to Loki's chest, unable to breathe let alone break away as they plummet to the ground. Not such a terrible distance, really, but with a landing of solid ice to meet them…

* * *

_**Footnote:** I'm so sorry for how _sloooowly_ this story is creeping. To those still reading, thanks for enduring it thus far! I apologise also for how brief this chapter is - between work and family life it's so hard to find time &amp; energy to write, so somehow I always manage to trick myself into believing I've written much more than I actually have. But I hope you were glad to see the return of Loki at last? I guess you can see for yourself that I'm floundering - there is little plot progression and even less character development going on, and I really should have worked on fixing that before posting this. Thing is, I'm fairly certain that if I don't post this chapter now, it's just going to sit in my Draft folder forever. I suppose I hope that by posting it, I'll find motivation to throw myself into the next chapter with a new burst of energy and inspiration. Fingers crossed._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Well, that went better than I expected."

Jane drags her gaze to Loki as he stands above her, brushing fragments of fractured ice from his long leather coat. She opens her mouth to deliver a retort, but the words hitch in her throat, trapped within the breath that won't free itself from her chest.

"Come on then." He extends a hand towards her. "The slaughter of Asgard's finest won't divert their attention for long."

Recoiling from Loki's reach, Jane forces herself to her knees, and then at last her feet. "Was that _your _doing back there?" She gasps finally. "Did you set up Odin and his men - "

She falters then, memories of Skadi's Hell Beasts ploughing through the golden-cloaked warriors still so horribly fresh in her mind. "Is it… Is it your fault they're all dead?"

In lieu of an answer, Loki holds her gaze with shrewd eyes. His expression giving away nothing. It's pointless, she realises. He couldn't care less about anyone but himself.

"If we hurry, we might make it to the same portal by which I arrived." Already Loki is turning to walk away, but Jane catches the words he throws over his shoulder. "Although whether we make it to Earth before Malekith is anyone's guess."

"Wait!" Gathering the furs around her, Jane throws a glance to their deserted surroundings of tumbled ruins and ice spires, and forces herself to run after the retreating Asgardian. Grateful for how much more pleasant it is to travel across ice with a pair of good thick boots.

Loki's strides are long and fast, and when Jane finally reaches his side, she's panting with the effort. "How do you know where Malekith is going?"

"I took the opportunity to catch up with some light reading while I was mustering an army to rescue you."

He says it so nonchalantly, Jane has to take a moment to process his words just to be sure of what he said. Grabbing his arm, she forces him to slow his pace. "Your _father_ was amid that army." She says fiercely, fingers pressing firmly into the supple leather of his sleeve . "Did you see the way those creatures ripped into them? Because I did. And your father -"

"Relax, Jane." Loki stops, laying a cool hand atop of her own. "That man was not my father."

"But he was the _All-_father! And those beasts...They just..." Fighting hot tears that suddenly prick at her eyes, Jane tries to snatch her hand away. But it's Loki's turn to hold firm.

"Nor was that man the Allfather." He continues, his voice smooth and sanguine. "Rest assured, Odin is safe from harm."

"But I saw - "

"A clever trick. I"m quite full of them, you know." He winks, as if it's all a game to him. As if the death of all those men and the manner in which they died means nothing. _He really is insane, _Jane thinks.

The dark prince releases her then, stepping back to spin on his heel and continue picking his way across the frozen land. Jane stares dumbfounded, deeply unsure of whether following Loki is the right thing to do. He's an unrepentant murderer. A mad man. And if somehow he's telling the truth - if that _wasn't _Odin astride that great horse…

"Then what of all the soldiers?" She presses. "Were they just tricks too?"

"Oh, no." He doesn't face her this time, instead his words thread across the wind. "Unfortunately, their deaths were quite real."

Something twists hard within Jane's stomach. She stares at Loki's retreating back. Watching as his long strides carry him further ahead. All of those men died - for her. It makes no sense. It makes no sense that Loki would bring them here to rescue her. It makes no sense that Odin would allow a genocidal maniac to lead his army - even if he did somehow believe she still held the Aether. There's so much more that Thor's brother is not telling her. And she's almost too afraid to ask for further details. Loki's answers do nothing but cause more confusion.

"The portal is not too far ahead, Jane Foster." The words carry to her just as Loki crests a hill and disappears from sight. "I suggest you get a move on."

A soft rumble from behind causes Jane to turn suddenly. The ground trembles beneath her feet as the rumble builds to a roar, and a great segment of the Jotun palace she left behind slides away from itself; sending boulders of ice into slender spires that crack and fold in upon themselves before crashing over the edge of the ravine. Another roar rises. Human-like. The cries of men. Jotun or Asgardian, she can't be sure - until they spill from the palace's skeletal remains, swarming the rubble. Blue giants that suddenly appear so small against the carnage.

"Come on!" A hand clamps her arm, tugging her into action. She turns to meet Loki's startled eyes as he half-drags her away from the explosion. The urgency in his face is frightening. "Now! Before they come for us."

And then she's nodding, dumbfounded, allowing him to half hold her upright as they scramble towards the hill. To where the portal lies somewhere beyond.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane doesn't need Loki to point out the portal. She recognises it by the way the falling snow oscillates within. It's smaller than the one she came through. Perhaps a little wider than a child's paddling pool. Though the real challenge is the fact that it hangs ten feet in the air, above a large outcrop of rock and ice.

"It appears to have drifted." Loki muses, half to himself. "But there is a possibility it might shift back."

"Really?" Jane snorts. "It might float back down to a more manageable distance? And your theory is based on… what exactly?"

"Newton's third law of motion?" Loki shrugs, before Jane's open-mouthed stare draws a nonchalant grin. "I met the man on more than one occasion. Clever chap."

Jane stares for a moment. "Right." She says slowly. "And do we have time to stand around and wait?"

"Oh no, I hardly think so." He scoffs. "In a few more hours, Malekith's ship will reach Earth. Greenwich, to be precise. He'll set a perimeter which no Earth missile will be able to penetrate. Then he'll eradicate the local population to be sure no one tries anything heroic. From there, he'll simply have to wait for the planets to fully align, and our entire Universe will be destroyed."

"Uh huh." Pressing a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose, Jane squeezes her eyes shut. She wonders if Loki also met Lewis Carroll. Perhaps providing inspiration for the Mad Hatter. "And you got all this… From a few books?"

"Not entirely. I discovered the location of the Convergence from a tome, yes. The rest..." He hesitates a moment before continuing. "Well, it's what _I'd _do."

"Fantastic." Jane sighs, reminded again of the kind of psychopathic, power-hungry madman she's been forced to co-operate with.

"Look, I can toss you through it." He offers, changing the subject back to the portal. "Easy."

"I'm not a basketball, Loki." She winces. "What if you miss, and I end up splattered on the rocks?"

"What if you stay, and end up threaded onto a Jotun spear?" He counters coolly. "I'm sure those that remain will not take kindly to the mortal who caused the destruction of Utgardhall."

"Me!" She splutters in disbelief. "How could I…. You! _You're _the one who did that!"

"What makes you think _I_ had anything to do with it?" He asks glibly. "I was already outside."

"So was I!" Burying her face into her hands, Jane tries counting to ten. He's winding her up on purpose - she knows it. But she can't stop herself from rising to his bait…

"Everything was fine until you came along." She mutters, before raising her eyes to meet his own. "They were kinda polite! Then I thought I could fast-track everything by mentioning _you_, and suddenly I was public enemy number one!"

He laughs. Cold and humourless. "How could you think associating yourself with me would give you any kind of safe passage?"

"Because you called yourself _Loki of Jotunheim_ when you spoke to Malekith!. Doesn't that stand for something?"

"Yes! It stands for, _the Jotun wish to kill me for trying to destroy their planet_!" Loki snaps bitterly. "Does that sate your thirst for details?"

"You… You tried to destroy _their _planet, too?" Jane gasps.

"Evidently, it doesn't." He mutters.

She stares at him in furious silence, before finally hissing through gritted teeth, "they were going to kill me. Worse, they were going to _torture _me. Because of _you_! "

"Well Jane, you really should have thought to keep your mouth -"

"Oh. No." Jabbing a finger at Loki's chest, Jane steps closer. "Don't you dare finish that sentence!"

Loki closes his mouth with a snap before a genuine smile lights his face. "You are _so _easy to agitate!" Ignoring her dark look, he continues smoothly, "Unfortunately we're going to have to continue this sparring match at a later date, my dear. That portal may not stay open for long and - "

"And we've still gotta get past those guys..." Jane finishes reluctantly, her voice trailing away as she stares beyond Loki - to the three Jotun warriors who have stepped out from the rocks, to stand on guard before the cosmic gateway.

"What?" Turning slowly, Loki's eyes flutter close as he mutters, "fantastic. Seems I'll be getting that family reunion after all..."

"Family?" Jane repeats, dumbfounded. But Loki is already moving towards the warriors. Hands at ease beside him, even as his gait is that of a panther stalking its prey.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Helblindi." Loki stops before the grim-faced warrior who stands a half-step of his men. "How wonderful to see you survived your invasion of the Realm Eternal, brother."

"It was you who led us in, Loki." The Jotun giant rumbles. "It was _you _who betrayed us to Odin."

"Ah. Now you see, that was a misunderstanding." Loki allows his expression to settle into one of remorse. "I led you into Asgard to see my father killed. It simply slipped my mind to mention _Laufey _was my paternal father."

The air cracks at Helblindi's side. His hand transforms to a blade of ice which he raises towards Loki's abdomen. "Whelp! I would kill you now, but that I have granted Skadi the honour."

"You do realise that, as the eldest of Laufey's sons, _I_ am the rightful King of Jotunheim, don't you?" Loki inches forward, so that the Jotun's blade presses firm against the leather of his coat. "It is, after all, the reason as to why Odin raised me alongside his own heir."

"You were _bastard _born, Loki!" Helblindi spits. "And a runt at that! Your birthright was - "

"To die? Yes yes, I've heard it all before." he waves a careless hand. "But such things are mere technicalities. As Allfather, Odin has the authority to - "

"The Allfather is dead!"

"Oh? Have you spies in his palace? As that is where I saw him last. Seated quite cosy upon his -"

"He died in battle. Here, within the stronghold of Utgard." The Jotun King's smile exposes a row of pointed teeth that gleam against his deep blue skin. "Torn to shreds by Skaldi's own beasts."

"You see the thing is..." Loki returns his own slow, glittering grin. "That wasn't Odin. That was a decoy. A dedicated soldier of Asgard who wore the illusion of the Allfather and sacrificed himself for the greater good."

Helblindi's stoic expression twists into rage. The ice-sword crackles again, extending further so that it's fine point slips between the weave of Loki's jerkin. "So, Odin has grown so weak he must stoop to parlour tricks, rather than face his enemies with honour?"

"Well to be fair…" Loki grunts, feeling the thin trickle of blood down his torso, "I didn't exactly give him a choice."

From the corner of eye, Loki can see Jane has ventured down the hill, to stand nearby. _Damn_. He bites his lip with a frown and wonders just how well his next _parlour trick _will work now.

"Which is just as well for you, when you think about it." he continues. "Because if Odin _had _fallen in battle, that would leave no one to rule the Nine Realms. Except for _me_."

"You!" The Jotun King laughs, and the warriors that flank him share in his mirth. "Have you forgotten Thor?"

"Thor is dead." Loki's eyes narrow. "He died trying to protect the realms from the Dark Elves. And yes you're right, Odin _is _weak. He can barely hold his own staff. It won't be long before I _am _the rightful King of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms."

Helblindi's rage deepens upon his face, but he waits, wordless.

Satisfied with the direction of their conversation, Loki continues. "So even if Odin declines to severe you from your throne, I will have the authority to do so myself - soon enough. However, should you agree to my terms - should you agree to help us defeat Malekith - I will graciously allow you to continue in your rule of this... rock."

A muscle twitches in Helblindi's jaw. He presses his sword arm forward an inch, grinning as it pars deeper into his bastard brother's flesh. "You will _never _come to power, little runt."

Loki ignores the sharp pain and smiles. Behind the Jotun warriors, the portal hovers. A city of steel and concrete wait beyond. At his side, he hears Jane gasp as she recognises the landscape, and for a moment he regrets what he must do next. "And you will never see Jotunheim again."

Then he throws up his arms, palms outward, a sharp intake of air hissing between his lips as he feels the ice blade jerk deeper. He uses the pain; channeling the energy until his fingers blaze with a thousand pinpricks of energy. Then he focuses on pushing the Jotuns back. _Back_. Teeth clenched. Until finally an invisible force shunts the three warriors backward; sending them through the portal just as it oscillates faster, and begins to close…

Leaving nothing but the sharp angles of Jotunheim in its distance.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What the... How did… " Jane struggles as awe and anger wrestle for dominance. "Did you just let them steal our ride!"

"Trust me, it wasn't my first plan." Loki grimaces as he presses a hand to his abdomen. Then, shooting her a dark look, "didn't I tell you to stay out of the way?"

"No! No, you didn't!" Anger juggernauting, Jane folds balled fists into her armpits to keep herself from Hulk-raging. "You just muttered something about family reunions and left me on the hillside!"

"Well, why couldn't you have just stayed where I left you!" he steps forward, narrowing the distance between them so that his presence dominates her own. "I had a plan!"

"Plan? What plan?" Unperturbed, the words escape her lips with an indignant hiss. "how was I to know there was a plan!"

Jane snorts as the Asgardian merely winces in return. "See? There wasn't a pla-" And then she stops as follows his gaze - to the blood that drips between his fingers; leaving splatters of red upon the snow.

"Oh god." She breathes. "You're not _dying _on me, are you?"

Ignoring the withering look, Jane prises Loki's hand from his stomach and push back his coat. Blood trickles through the punctured seam between two strips of leather weave, and she presses a hand to broken seam as if holding the stitches together will make everything okay.

"Okay, I'm no doctor so…" Swallowing hard as a rivulet of red tracks between her fingers, she looks up to meet Loki's sharp gaze. A hot flush prickles her skin as she becomes overly-conscious of his warm breath ghosting her cheek. "I… I actually have no idea what to do." She finishes quickly, ducking her head to avoid that unnerving stare.

.A soft sigh ruffles the crown of her hair. Loki's hands alight upon her own as he pushes her away. "Thank you for your concern." There is a surprising lack of sarcasm in his tone. "But it's entirely unnecessary. My body will heal itself soon enough."

She pulls the furs tighter around her, dragging her fingers through the fibres to wipe away the blood. "Okay. back to the plan " She says briskly. "What were you saying about the plan again?"

Loki moves to a group of rocks. Face pinched tight as he lowers himself to sit. "I was going to create a diversion. A small avalanche. _Something _that would take their attention from me for a moment or two, so that I could project myself back to you and leave them a decoy."

"You… " Jane gapes; mind fumbling for words. "You can _do _that? You can physically… _teleport?_"

"Of course." he raises a brow, as if it's a small trick anyone can do. "The decoy would have fled. The Jotnar would have followed. We would have escaped through the portal." He sighs as his gaze drifts to the empty place where the portal once spun in its lazy circles. "It would have been _so _simple."

Jane is silent as her mind tries to understand Loki's claims. "If you can do this…" She begins slowly. Doubtfully. "Why didn't you use teleportation to get us up that cliff? Or out of the palace? Or…"

"It takes dark energy to travel so." He snaps, his tone haughty. "Such power is heavily taxing, even for one such as myself. A mortal would never survive."

"I survived the Aether." She says softly. "Maybe mortals are more resilient than you give us credit for."

"Shall we test that theory?" He levels her with a dark look. "Shall we find out just how resilient Jane Foster truly is?"

"I think you've tested my resilience well enough." She says hotly, refusing to be cowed by the sudden mad shine of his eyes.

"Fair enough." He concedes, much to her surprise. "So we find the next portal on foot."

"The next…" She frowns. "Is this land riddled with them or something?"

"Under normal circumstances, no." As Loki rises to his feet, Jane can't help but notice how he sucks in a breath and steps gingerly; for all that he keeps his expression well-schooled. "There are one or two pre-existing pathways between each realm, but the approaching Convergence is throwing out unstable anomalies - the likes of which I have never before seen."

Jane nods slowly as she thinks of the abandoned factory in London. "That one in the cave - I was sure it would take me back to Earth. But it deposited me here instead."

"Yes." he chews his lip thoughtfully. "these portals are unpredictable. This one brought me from Asgard but it sent the Jotnar to Earth"

A silence stretches between them as they both consider how close they had been to where they needed to go. "Look," Loki says at last, "we need to reach a very precise destination as quickly as possible. For all we know, that portal could have deposited us on the other side of -"

Jane clears her throat. "Pretty sure I got a glimpse of the Tower of London just before you pushed those blue guys through."

"Right." There's a weighted pause. Loki meets Jane's scowl with a roll of his eyes. "Alright fine. Should I ever need to _teleport _again, I'll take you with me - whether it tears your body apart or not. Deal?"

She swallows hard; equally terrified and elated by the thought.

Then, before she can find an answer, the air sparks and crackles around them. Light snapping in the air as if an invisible flint is trying to ignite.

"What the…" The snow rises and swirls in a furious maelstrom, pressing around Jane's face. Blinding her. Suffocating her. She drops to the ground, throwing her arms around her head. Then there is warmth and darkness and the hard press of leather and metal as she realises Loki has thrown himself over her to act as a shield. _Just as he did on Svartalfheim_, her mind supplies unnecessarily. But this is no blast. This is so much worse.

As Loki pulls her to him and cries "hold on!" against her ear, she feels an enormous force wrenching at her body. Dragging her from all directions until she frantically wonders if this is what it's like to be torn apart - if being inside a portal as it's born into the world can do that. The landscape shifts like a kaleidoscope; spinning with a myriad of colours. Blurring faster and faster until there's nothing left but the rush of falling and the scream of the wind that sounds so painfully human…

And then there is nothing.

* * *

**Long explanatory chapter note:** Thanks to those who have left your reviews on the story so far - your feedback feeds my soul! Or at least, it helps to provide snacks for my muse! Also, a long-overdue rewatch of The Avengers helped with a portion of this chapter - namely, the scene where Loki teleports a short distance to stab Coulston in the back with his Glowstick of Destiny. (Some might argue that he cannot teleport and it was all the work of holograms, but it was a physical Loki that stabbed Coulston, and a physical Loki that shimmered back to the control panel to launch Thor through the longdrop. So… I figure he's capable of teleporting short distances, but assume he relies on dark energy to do so which, according to the Thor 2 prelude comics, is quite damaging.)

I realise this story is confusing to some readers, what with Jane portal-jumping to Jotunheim and Odin sending his army after her… _How can there be time for all this while the Convergence is taking place?!_ I made this chapter quite dialogue heavy to try and clarify that a little (while still trying to keep some cards to myself for later), though I should probably at this point remind readers that this story does not attempt to exactly mirror the events &amp; timeline of Thor 2. Malekith unleashing the Aether during the Convergence is of course still the obstacle Loki and Jane have to ultimately overcome, but we _know _all that stuff already… I want to put my own spin on it so it's hopefully _not _entirely predictable. And, given that this fic is inspired by a Lokane prompt with a very specific line Loki must at some point use on Jane… I need these characters to have more than two point something hours together. Thus, as mentioned in a previous note, I've extended the timeframe so that the alignment takes place over a matter of days rather than hours. Also! I'm not finished with the game Loki is playing with Odin and his throne! Mwahaa. Perhaps more details in regards to that will be revealed with the next chapter… ;)

Anyway, thanks for enduring this waffle, and I hope you lot come back for the next chapter! Feedback is welcome. It really _really _is. :)


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